Fate leads the willing
by Washedawaycloud
Summary: ...and drags along the stubborn. A single change in the timeline and everything else is thrown off it's 'proper' course. Does this mean Bella is made for Edward or one of the Wolf Pack? Will the Jaguar addition truly change that much?


If Bella thought the Meadow, _Edward's_ Meadow would somehow heal her heart, the hole in her being, Amaya doubted it would be because of her abrupt appearance. But, that wasn't Amaya's problem or even her focus. _Laurent_ was her focus. Laurent who murdered her tribe when he rolled through some hundred or more years ago. She's lost count, the time doesn't matter, their deaths matter, _his_ death mattered. So, she had come to the sleepy town in Washington where he had last loudly been seen, the supernatural community spoke, no matter what anyone said or what rules and edicts were laid down. Everyone spoke - gossiped. He'd found his mate, tales told, and now, for some reason, was doing the bidding of a coven mate. A coven mate that gave Amaya chills.

Vampires needed no extra gifts in her estimation. Vampires were monsters, and monsters should not have _talents_ like Victoria and James. Not like the Coven in the snow, nor the one that had hidden in the rain. Her breath comes deep and steady, the urge to retch carefully controlled. He smelled of rotting sugar and barely hidden death. Like acidic chemical and everything awful, she didn't know how humans could stand it.

Now he spoke low words of threat to a girl who had been drawn into a world that couldn't seem to let her go. A pity. She could perhaps have been something great, had she not been drugged within an inch of her life by the undead. Had she not been so close to a pack of wolves. Wolves that Amaya could hear and have taken great pains to avoid while being here in Forks.

Such was life, as the words _"Victoria won't be happy about my killing you, but I can't help myself. You are so mouth-watering,"_ left the heathen's mouth, Amaya broke through the trees. Her bones shift in anticipation and she knows the moment Laurent has scented her.

"Stop playing with the innocent, _Muuaji_ , you can I have business." She's moving forward, not stopping, even though the Vampire is still, tracking her only with his eyes, head turned toward her. She won't let him get away, not after waiting _so long_ for this. She can't. Her tribe demanded justice and it has been long coming.

"Now, Amaya, let's not be hasty." That easy rolling accent and smile meant to charm only make her hackles raise, an angry hissing growl leaving sounding in her throat. "It's been decades. Surely this chase can go on a few more."

"NO!" She roars as she scents wolves, and barrels forward. Thankfully, his need to survive outweighs his desire for food. Instinct makes the Vampire start to flee, but Amaya has been on this chase now too long for him to slip away. Not with him this close. Her bones shift under her skin and she leaps, not caring a whit if the slip of a girl sees her. She is the last of her tribe – what does she care if she is exposed?

A jaguar is left in her place as she lands, paws thundering against the soil. Her tail flicks as she redirects herself, feeling the gods at her heels, the whispers of the ancestor that screamed for blood. The distance closes and Amaya breaks from her course, moving into the trees, hitting one, launching herself off it really, and taking her human skin as she flies, landing on the vampires back with a war cry that would have mad her brothers proud.

They fall and she rights herself like only a cat can, eyes betraying her nature, elongated pupils narrowed, eyes shining in the dim forest light. She takes and shifts again landing catching an arm and _yanking_. It sounds like a boulder is being rent in two and her heart fairly sings at the sound. Yes, Yes it was time, this time he would pay. Her family would be avenged. The spirits could rest after this day.

Her maw lets the arm drop and when he runs, she gives chase. Amaya has no problem taking human skin to get him down and jaguar to take his limbs. This is vengeance, he is not allowed a slow death. She bounces off trees and boulders as he hits her back, his death throws are strong, but she is stronger, driven by more than the need to survive. When he is just a torso, and venom burns her mouth as she spits it out in her human skin, Amaya stalks forward, her nudity not giving her pause, though she can see the Wolf Pack surrounding her with caution.

"Our chase is over, your damned existence will be erased from this plane. The gods breath down your neck, _mnywaji wa damu_ , I take your head as a woman, and with it the justice of my tribe. _Mafdet_ is here for you, _Ammit_ will take your soul – there will be no afterlife for you, _Menhit_ , _Baset_ , and _Pakhet_ cry victory for my war, my hunt in the dark, my people now rest easy, after hundreds of years since you took them in the night." Her voice trembles, a growl threading through every syllable. She had waited so long.

Her hands reach out, and her fingers hook under the immobile, shrieking thing that had been a man, once upon a time. She twists and pulls, muscles bunching, straining until finally, the unnatural skin gives way. It is the most satisfying moment of her life. Her purpose is finally, finally fulfilled. The air around her shivers, victory cries sounding around her for one moment, one blissful moment, before the restless dead may continue their journey -properly avenged.

She looks at the head, now silent with no vocal cords work. There is panic there, rage in those ruby eyes. Amaya laughs at it, taking it by the hair and beginning to gather the lost limbs, breaking them further for her own cathartic needs. It is wrong to take joy in the suffering of others, but just once, Amaya goes against that natural law. She relishes every crack and shriek of rending matter that once made up the thing known as Laurent. He is neatly piled, a pit created around him. She is eager to see him gone, but she will not destroy this place in her eagerness. Now his head is speared carefully through a tree limb. It is a touch gruesome of her, to make it so his mouth holds the branch, but it is expedient.

The wolves haven't moved. They are unnaturally large, and far too intelligent for her to have ever mistaken them for their local counterparts. Her hands settle on her hips, her shoulders thrust back proudly, head held high.

"Which of you has a lighter?"

The warrior that had crossed into their territory was – breathtaking in her ferocity. Paul didn't know what to do with himself. Arguably one of the angrier wolves, certainly the one always ready for a fight, was shocked in his admiration of the woman who just ripped a vampire's head off. The pack all agreed. This woman was – something new, the wolves in them saw another apex predator, the men something worthy of awe.

It's Embry, the silent and enraged wolf that takes his human skin after ducking behind a tree, emerging with shorts on, a lighter in hand. Her head snaps toward him, eyes still glowing green, Jaguar too close to the surface yet to relinquish that part of her.

The lighter is lifted, and wordlessly thrown, caught without more effort than lifting her hand into the air. She lights the leech with soft words in a language none of them can place, but they can all feel the otherness that takes place when she does it. Her people, or gods, had heard the words, answered her. She waits as the body burns low before ripping the head from the tree and tossing it in, the flames flair high, her eyes flashing in the light before she finally turns away from her kill.

Turns away and is in front of Embry with speed that would scream leech had they not all seen her take a different skin. She lifts the lighter, eyes not on the wolf but the implement before those cat's eyes shift and land on him – and they all see it when it happens. The imprint rocks Embry back onto his heels, and the warrior woman? Her body goes rigid, lighter dropped into the forest undergrowth.

 _Holy shit_ , Jared is the first to say anything, shock rippling through the other wolves. _Cross-species imprint?!_

 _Apparently,_ came the Alpha's rumble, before another shock ripped through the connected mind of the pack.

 _Shit, girl moves fast. Imprint pull is definitely in action…._ Jared shakes his head, trying to unsee the way the woman had simply taken Embry's face in her hands and dragged him down to her mouth. While it might have started simple, it wasn't anymore. She was devouring him. Poor kid had no idea what was coming, but, from the looks of things, he wasn't having a problem catching up.

Amaya smirks against her mate's lips when his hands finally settle on her hips. He was a shy thing, for a warrior, but that hardly mattered now that she'd found him. He was young, he'd need guidance, but finally, finally, she could live her life. _They_ could have a life together. Her tribe may not be completely dead after all, provided her gene won out over this tribes.

A throat clears somewhere to the left of them and she reluctantly parts from her nameless warrior's mouth, though she doesn't step away from him, instead, turning her head toward the man now standing, looking just off to the side. Americans. Hey were oddly prudish as a culture.

"Greetings, Wolf."

Embry is slightly dazed, within moments of the imprint taking hold, he had lips on his. He'd been curious as to whether her kind imprinted, but the small dark warrior woman in his hands apparently did. That, or the pull was stronger than anticipated. He's not sure. He needed to ask. Ask her name, tell her his name. Figure out a way to keep her here near La Push, or how to follow her.

She speaks, and he shivers. Her voice is low, indescribably sexy to him too. It's hard to tear his eyes from her, even as the soft chuckles of his pack brothers makes it to his ears. That inability to not look at her, however, doesn't stop him from growling warningly. He raises a hand as Sam speaks, and brushes it along her face, tracing her cheekbones and jawline, delighting in the way she leans into the small touch.

"I'm Samuel, Alpha of the La Push Pack. We've never encountered a – panther shifter before." He hesitates slightly in his attempt to name her, and Amaya smiles even as she leans into her mate's touch. He's warm, so warm. Amaya has the distinct urge to just press against him and never move away. Napping next to him would be lovely, sleeping, however, might be problematic. His fingers hit her neck before sweeping into her wild curls. Her eyes slide shut, and she isn't ashamed to admit she rumbles in approval.

"Amaya of a long dead tribe. Likely to claim your pack as my kin if the mating pull is any indication." Her lips curl into a slow smile as her eyes open just enough to look at this Samuel. He is watching with fathomless dark eyes, the barest hint of a smile pulling his lips.

One of the young wolves, young like her wolf, steps forward, radiating curiosity. She has the distinct feeling he will ask a question that may be deemed inappropriate to his Alpha. She isn't disappointed.

"How long? We heard you – "

"I would hazard a guess of a century and a quarter by this point." Her voice drops low, eyes immediately going to Embry's. This would be a hard thing to swallow for him, no doubt. And yet, there is no flicker of uncertainty or disgust in his eyes. Perhaps the mating pull was erasing his natural distress, perhaps he was truly unworried about it.

Either way, the low whistles, and exclamations surround them. Another wolf, slightly older, approaches from the left and claps her mate on the shoulder. "Look at you, Call, winning the Imprint lottery, warrior woman, gorgeous, clearly not afraid of intimacy or wolves, _and_ definitely worldly." He sends her a salacious wink, and she rolls her eyes at him. A flirt. Just what she needed in her life.

The growl her mate lets out _again_ has her pressing a little closer into his hold, a shot of want running along her spine. Territorial, she could get behind that from time to time. "Watch it, Paul," her mate replies softly, threat lining the three words before his attention focuses right back on her.

"I'm Embry, Embry Call."

"Hello, mate." She smiles at him, knowing it must look wicked as she leans in, running her nose along his neck, scenting him lightly before lifting onto her toes, rubbing her cheek along his. She'd not worried about a mate in the years of hunting Laurent. Hadn't thought to do more than kill him, and then meet her long-dead family. Now, however, things are different. Much, much different.

"I expect one of you will wish to check on the human girl, the one who reeked of Vampire allure? She was so steeped in it I am surprised she's coherent." Her words make one wolf after another stiffen, curious gazes focusing on her.

"What do you mean?"

"Surely – Vampires are apex predators just as we are. We repel them, and they us, but to humans – they are an addicting presence. Their voice, what passes as their skin, their features defining to otherworldly heights, it's all manufactured to dazzle their victims. But not just that, the smell that so repulses our kind, draws in the humans. It's how their thrall takes hold. It's toxic, like any drug, deadening the human's perception of the vampire's inability to be human and making them amenable to their prolonged presence." She looks at the warriors before them, differing levels of horror and disgust shining from their faces.

"That girl, in the clearing – she shouldn't be as alert as she is. Not with how she stinks of multiple vampiric influences. It's a wonder she can stand, that she isn't hallucinating. I'm surprised you have not taken her to be treated by your healers for it –"

"We've never encountered this before. We are the first pack in two generations, and Bella the only human with that sort of prolonged contact with the Cullen coven. They didn't hold a thrall over any human like they did her when they were last here."

Now it is Amaya's turn to be floored. The coven had been allowed to leave this territory intact? How could their last Alpha condone it? How could _this_ Alpha? "What do you mean by that? Why does the coven still exist if it has been here before?!"

"Their father figure, leader, met with the last Alpha – Ephraim Black, and asked they not go to war, a treaty was drawn up between the Quileute people and Cullen Coven. They will not take human life and we will tolerate their presence, to be very general about it."

Her mouth draws open, shock making her tense before her head shakes. "The dead should never be allowed to exist as unchanging monstrosities! That girl is proof enough why." Amaya quietly resolves that she was not Quileute and she had not made any treaty. The coven was a danger, and if she crossed it, she would destroy it – as it ought to have been destroyed.

"Chill future – Mrs. Call," the one that had clapped Embry on the shoulder laughs softly. "They left months ago. Their little leech pet has been detoxing for months –"

"You left her unaided for _months?!_ You are, _wapumbavu_ – fools to let an innocent suffer so." She moves out of her Mate's hold, incensed. "She must be taken onto tribal land, she has to –" a frustrated, angry sound leaves her, and the warrior spins on her heel, stalking toward the clearing. She mutters about young warriors and youth being the folly of the innocent.

The young woman is nowhere to be seen, and Amaya curses her luck, taking a deep breath to catch her scent. Artificial strawberry fills her senses and she shudders, that is not a complimentary scent for the girl. A group of six wolves emerges from the forest behind her. She barely turns her head and shakes it, mouth becoming a firm line when a low growl is the response.

"Go to your land. I will get the girl – and I don't answer to you, Samuel. I will help that girl."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

So this is the first story I've posted here in a while, but AO3 has a serious lack of Twilight fics. Plus I thought I'd see the reception here first. I hope you enjoyed this. Not sure if it's just going to be a cameo piece or a full-fledged thing.


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